


shiver now my fractious skin

by Rowantreeisme



Series: Whumptober 2019 [4]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Body Horror, Established Relationship, Gore, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Torture, Whump, Whumptober 2019, holy shit what's happened to Tony?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:07:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22886794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rowantreeisme/pseuds/Rowantreeisme
Summary: Steve fights, and he loses. They’ve already got his arms bound up in stupidly strong cuffs, and they’ve dosed him with something too, not enough to knock him out entirely but enough to make him sluggish, weak, slow enough that they manage to separate him from Tony entirely, to shove him in a concrete room with one narrow window in the door, chain his wrists to the floor so he can’t even try to break down the door.They’d left with Tony nearly twelve hours ago, by Steve’s count, and Steve—Well, Steve’s terrified.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Whumptober 2019 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1503695
Comments: 10
Kudos: 66





	shiver now my fractious skin

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for em on discord for beta

When they’re captured, they take Tony. 

Tony can’t fight — he’s knocked out cold with something in syringe they’d dosed him with as soon as they’d pried him out of the armor — but Steve does. Steve  _ fights _ , angry, and desperate, because he’s been around enough to know that it’s never a good thing when they start separating prisoners. 

Steve fights, and he loses. They’ve already got his arms bound up in stupidly strong cuffs, and they’ve dosed him with something too, not enough to knock him out entirely but enough to make him sluggish, weak, slow enough that they manage to separate him from Tony entirely, to shove him in a concrete room with one narrow window in the door, chain his wrists to the floor so he can’t even try to break down the door.

They’d left with Tony nearly twelve hours ago, by Steve’s count, and Steve— 

Well, Steve’s terrified. He doesn’t know who these people are, he doesn’t know why they’ve taken Tony, he doesn’t know what they could be doing to his boyfriend. He doesn’t know what they  _ want _ .

They give him water, once, and there’s a metal toilet against the corner, bolted to the floor, so he’s not in danger of dehydrating or having to piss in the corner, but Steve’s not getting any illusions about the whole situation. 

Just because this is objectively nicer than most times he’s been captured, doesn’t mean that he has to like it, and it hasn’t stopped him from pacing the room as much as the chains allow, looking for any part of it that might be weaker than the rest, any part that might be a possible escape route. There’s a strange gap along the edge of the back wall, but Steve can’t reach far enough to investigate more. He doesn’t find anything but that this cell is well-constructed, and a couple kicks against the concrete let him know that it’s reinforced, almost definitely up to the standards needed to contain a supersoldier. 

And that… scares him. Knowing that whoever’s taken them knows just what the both of them can do, and has planned for it. 

As much as Steve hates the disappointment that comes from facing a lacklustre villain, from getting ramped up with adrenaline and having nowhere for it to go, as much as Tony complains about incompetence, they’d both much rather an idiot than someone who might actually be able to hurt them. 

Whoever has them now? Is going to be able to hurt them. The only question is  _ how much _ , and Steve— Steve tries not to think about it, sits cross-legged on the floor, hands folded loosely in his lap, staring at the window in the door, currently closed and latched, saving his energy for… whatever comes next.

When a man with blue eyes and long blond hair looks through the door at Steve with a venomous, vindictive expression on his face, Steve’s  _ ready _ . 

“Where is Tony.” Steve says, pushing himself to his feet and hardening his tone. He won’t show that he’s terrified out of his goddamn mind because that won’t help anyone. He can’t show that he’s scared because there is no doubt that this man will use it against him. 

By the way the man smiles, Steve thinks that he can tell that he’s afraid anyways. 

The chains around his wrists contract, tugging at him, and Steve has to go to his knees or be pulled there. He spins with the motion, and he’s left facing the wall opposite the door, and he has to crane his neck to see the blond. 

The blond man  _ smiles _ , opened the door, and Steve feels a chill go through his gut.  _ Please God don’t be dead, _ he thinks _ , Don’t take him from me, not like this, not this quickly _ . “Would you like to see him for yourself?” The man asks, and dreading this, dreading what he could see, Steve nods, clenched both fists, nails digging into his palm. 

The wall behind Steve starts to slide open, slowly and gratingly — Steve thinks that Tony would have something to say about the engineering there — and all Steve can think is  _ don’t be a corpse, please don’t let him be dead. _

The relief he feels when he sees Tony is immense, so great that Steve can feel himself slump in his chains as the wall continues sliding, a wall to the side of Tony moving, too, but— 

Tony’s there, bruised and stripped down to his underwear, chained to the floor like Steve is with two black-suited security guards standing near a different door, and there’s  _ two of him _ . 

“What.” Steve says, and it’s like the words are torn right out of his mouth, “Tony—”

It looks like this is the first time that the two Tony—  _ Tonies _ — are seeing each other, and they’re staring at each other with identical expressions of disgust and horror, “Ty…” they say, at the same exact time, in the same tone of voice, “You son of a  _ bitch _ .”

The blond — Ty, Steve has to presume — just smiles wider, still staring at Steve, “One of them,” He says, and pulls a gun out of his suit jacket, “Is a fake, a LMD. Here’s the deal, Rogers. If you figure out which one the  _ real _ Tony Stark is, you shoot the fake, and you get to walk out of here, both of you.” Ty takes a step closer, and his smile looks— unnatural. Fake.  _ horribly _ fake, stretched across too much skin, like if he stopped smiling there’d be an inch of loose skin at each cheek from just how wide that gash in his face is. He drops the gun in front of Steve, smiles even wider. “Now, I’m a generous man—”  _ Both _ Tonies scowl at that, “-- so I’ll give you ten minutes.”

He gestures, like he’s shooing away a pet, and teeth gritted, Steve just  _ stares _ at him until he’s gone. The chains let up, a little bit, enough that he could grab the gun if he wanted to but not enough that he can actually  _ reach _ either Tony. 

Now that they’re alone— well, not alone, but at least there’s a door in between them and the threat, Steve takes a breath, and looks at the two people in front of him. 

They look… identical. Down to the bruises on their bodies, the cut on their cheeks that Steve had seen Tony get when he struggled, the scars that Steve remembers so, so well, “Tony—” He starts. 

“It’s me, you know—” Both of them say simultaneously, from where they’re chained to the floor, and they look at each other with identical expressions of horror. Steve’s heart _sinks_ as both of them look back at him, faces pleading, “You _know me,_ _Steve_.”

“Did I forget to mention that they have the same memories?” Ty says, sounding  _ far _ too cheerful about it through the PA system, “You have 9 more minutes, by the way. Good luck,  _ Captain _ . Let’s see just how well you really know Tony Stark.” 

The Tonies stare at each other. 

The one on the right starts, hesitance clear in his voice, “Visually—” 

“Identical.” The left finishes, “Bruise patterns, gotta be some sort of biotech. Fake skin, fake tissue underneath, wonder—”

“--just how far it goes.” Right continues, voice soft, “Pain—?”

“Yeah.” Left finishes. “So… we both have pain receptors, and whatever they’ve done has somehow copied chronic pain, too. Beat us up the same way, too, so—”

“We’re identical.” Right says, snorts. “Schrodinger's Tony, I guess. Real and unreal until proven either way.” 

And, well, if Steve hadn’t been convinced that they’re identical before, he’s convinced now. How they sound, how they  _ talk—  _

Even their eyes— 

Steve can’t tell the difference. He  _ can’t _ . He can’t, and he  _ should _ be able to, one of them is a  _ robot _ for crying out loud, he should—

He should be able to tell. He should be able to recognize the man he loves from a robot but he can’t, he  _ can’t _ . 

_ They have the same memories, they are the same, really,  _ Steve tries telling himself,  _ it’s not your fault _ , even as he thinks that maybe it  _ is _ his fault, that maybe, if he just loved Tony more, if he really loved him, he’d be able to figure this thing out. 

He just needs to love Tony more, Steve thinks, even as he wonders… and  _ then _ what? Knowing the fake, he’d— he’d still have to point the gun at someone who believed he was Steve’s lover and he’d have to pull the trigger and he’d have to  _ know _ that in the LMD’s last moments he’d think that Steve had looked and deemed him  _ not enough _ . 

And Steve decides right then and there that he can’t do that to any Tony, even a fake. 

“Steve.” The one on the left says softly, and when Steve snaps his gaze up the Tony is staring at Steve, something sad in his eyes but a small, wry smile on his face, “I’m the fake. Shoot me.” 

The Tony on the right jerks his head over, but Steve doesn’t drop his gaze from where their eyes are locked, “You— how—”

“I just know.” He says, glances towards the window. Right, they have an audience, “Shoot me. Go  _ home _ . Do it, Steve.” 

“I—” Steve says, drops his gaze down to the gun, looks back up and— he’s  _ helpless _ , and he knows that  _ he cannot do this _ , “I  _ can’t.  _ I am sorry, but I cannot do this. You said it yourselves, you two are functionally the same, and if you’re the same— I can’t kill either of you.”  _ Especially,  _ Steve thinks _ ,  _ dull horror growing in the pit of his stomach _ , since I don’t even know how you know you’re not real _ . 

The fake — if he even  _ is _ the fake — could be lying. Maybe there is no difference, maybe he can’t really tell, maybe he’s just being himself and making the sacrifice because that’s what Tony Stark  _ always _ does. 

Maybe he’s run the odds and maybe he thinks a 50/50 shot is the better option. It’s… likely. Far too likely for Steve to be anywhere near alright with this. 

“I am  _ telling you _ ,” The LMD says, a hint of anger in his voice, a kind of desperation that Steve knows very well, “I’m not  _ real _ , I’m not Tony Stark. Do what you’d do if I was a Skrull and  _ shoot me _ , or—”

The door swings open, and the goons circle over to Steve and forcibly wrench the gun from his hands, pass it back to Ty, “Sorry boys,” He says, strides right over to the LMD and crouches down so he’s at it’s level — and god, it’s  _ hard _ , damn near impossible to think of the LMD as an  _ it _ and not as a  _ he _ , becuase it looks like Tony and it sounds like Tony and it’s fucking  _ sacrificing itself _ like Tony would — and grabs his jaw, forcing not-Tony’s head up, “No cheating allowed. How did you  _ know _ .” 

Well. That answers the question of  _ was he really the fake _ . If Ty cares so much— 

It doesn’t matter. Steve wouldn't have killed him anyways. 

Not-Tony just smiles, as best he can with his face held like that, and  _ spits _ . It hits Ty in the cheek and reels back, sputtering with rage, “You did a good job.” Tony says, “Well, the person you hired did. Feels  _ exactly _ like a human body. Feels exactly like  _ my _ body, but no. I’m not telling you how you fucked up so you can drag me and him back into your torture chamber to  _ fix _ me so that you can play this game the way you want to.  _ Fuck _ you, Stone, but if there’s  _ anything _ I can do to make your life just that  _ little _ bit worse, you fucking  _ bet— _ ”

Not-Tony’s head snaps back with the force of the slap, and Steve  _ growls _ and tugs at his chains. 

Tony flinches back at the sharp noise, but the LMD just slowly turns his gaze back to Ty, the side of his face already reddening from the force of the hit, and he’s still grinning, vicious and victorious all in one, “ _ I’m not afraid of you _ ,” He says, voice as sharp as his smile, “I  _ felt _ that, and it  _ hurt _ , and I’m  _ still _ not telling you how I can tell that I’m the fake. I’m not a  _ kid _ anymore, Tiberus, you can’t just toss your weight around and expect me to cower at your feet again. That’s done. That’s  _ over _ . That’s not  _ me _ anymore, so once again, with the  _ greatest _ respect, go  _ fuck _ yourself.” 

Tiberius — and that name is familiar, but Steve can’t quiet place it even as this man is very quickly solidifying himself as the person Steve hates most in the world, especially considering what Tony had just implied — scowls down at not-Tony, “You’ve always been  _ difficult _ .” He says, face twisted in disgust, and then nearly quicker than Steve can process, snaps his foot back and kicks not-Tony solidly in the ribs. 

Not-Tony bends double around his ribs and grunts in pain as the real Tony watches in mute horror, and Steve— Steve can’t break these restraints, he’s not strong enough and doesn’t have the right leverage but he still snarls at tugs at the chains, sympathy-pain echoing in his chest. “Stop it,” He shouts, and it’s like no one even hears him. 

Steve doesn’t even get the chance to say anything else before Tiberius nods at one of the goons, the ones that Steve had nearly forgotten about with what’s happening to the LMD, and the one closest to the real Tony first slaps him hard across the face, the same cheek that Tiberus had hit on the LMD, and then kicks him in the ribs. 

Tony had clearly seen this coming, because he’s already half-curled over himself when the kick hits, but the way he’s restrained means that there’s not much he can do to protect himself. The noise of pain he makes is the same as the LMD made, soft and muffled like through gritted teeth. 

“Having  _ fun _ , oh Caesar?” The LMD mocks, as Tony stays silent — there’s  _ something _ wrong with that, with Tony being quiet in a situation like this, there’s something wrong with the fear that Steve can see in his eyes, — “Is this bringing back some good memories for you?” 

Tiberius makes a face again, presses something in the pocket of his suit-jacket and the wall in between Steve’s cell and the room where Tony and the LMD are starts to slide back shut. “Get comfortable, Captain.” He calls before the wall fully closes, “You might be waiting for a while.” 

Steve struggles, wishes that he could stop what he knows is going to happen, wishes that he could do something,  _ anything _ , but he can’t. 

\---

It’s three hours before the door slid back open, and as soon as he can see Tony — a Tony, he’s sure that Tiberius must’ve done something to make them identical again, maybe even changed their places in the room — he strains at his chains, aching to get closer. 

Both of them are visibly hurt worse than they were when the door had closed, even accounting for the two hits they took within Steve’s view, “Tony, “ Steve says, “Shellhead, are you—”

“Fine, Winghead.” Both of them say, send each other a wry look through the eye that’s not swollen shut. 

Tiberius is clearly about to give Steve the gun again — the one that he can do nothing with but shoot his boyfriend — but one of the Tonies speaks up before he can take it, “I’m the fake.” He says, staring at Tiberius, this time, a vicious little smirk on his face, “Too bad, Ty. You didn’t fix  _ shit _ .” 

Tiberius’s face goes through a journey at that, surprise, and rage, and landing on disgust, and he shoves the gun back inside his jacket, strides back over to the LMD, “You piece of shit,” He says, “Do you know how much I paid for you? Do you know how much time, money, and  _ effort _ I spent setting this up, all for  _ you?  _ I was going to convince you to come  _ back _ , Tony, I had a plan, and you— you’ve  _ ruined it.”  _ Steve feels a chill at those words — this man is clearly delusional, and that just makes him more dangerous, — and then a flash of hot rage when Tiberius emphasizes his words but kicking not-Tony again, this time in the stomach, and he’s— he’s looking at  _ Tony _ , the real Tony, who’s looking at Tiberius with such an expression of horrified betrayal that Steve’s chest hurts, a little. 

He doesn’t know who Tiberius is, he doesn’t know what he was to Tony if he was ever anything to Tony, and he wants to know the answer so, so badly even though he’s sure knowing would just make him feel sick.

“I  _ love you, _ ” Tiberius screams, kicks not-Tony again, and again, eyes locked on the real Tony, and Steve feels like he’s going to throw  _ up _ , “I’m proving that I  _ love you _ and this malfunctioning piece of  _ garbage _ is  _ ruining _ it. You’re  _ ruining  _ it, Tony, this is why no one ever loves you, this is why no one ever stays because you force them to do things like  _ this—”  _

“Sure.” Not-Tony coughs, blood on his lips, “ _ I’m _ ruining things. Not you, who, you know, has  _ literally kidnapped and tortured me _ . I’m ruining it.” 

_ What are you doing,  _ Steve wants to ask, to  _ beg _ , because— Fuck, he knows that this is how Tony works, that he talks and talks and  _ talks _ when he’s in situations like this, distraction and armor all at once, but this is— this is  _ stupid _ . He’s antagonizing someone who’s clearly already unstable, who has set up this situation to force Steve to make a choice that he cannot make, and he’s getting the shit beat out of him for it. 

Tiberius makes an unarticulated noise in the back of his throat, kicks not-Tony once again, and then strides out of the room. He tosses the gun behind him, and the goons follow him out, “Make your choice, Rogers.” He says, “And make it  _ quick _ .”

And then… the three of them are alone.The LMD looks— he looks  _ bad _ , and Steve can’t— he can’t reach him to offer any sort of comfort, to even check on the wounds he knows he has, and Tony’s not looking great either, but— 

Fuck, but Steve wishes he was strong enough to get out of these gododamn cuffs. 

“Are you—” Steve asks, keeping his voice quiet, “Are you ok? What did he  _ do—” _

“Beat one of us to shit,” The LMD snorts, “Then did the same to the other so the injuries would match. He doesn’t meet Steve’s gaze. “I’m fine. You should just shoot me, anyways.”

“You know he’s not gonna keep his deal now.” Tony says softly, “We didn’t play by his rules, so now he’s pissed. Even if Steve does shoot you—”

“I won’t.” Steve says, “I can’t  _ do _ that, Tony—”

“I know,” Tony says, “I don’t get it, but— I know. He’s always liked changing the rules in the middle of a game.” 

The LMD shrugs, “Then we’ll just have to keep on breaking them.” He says, “But,  _ god _ , can you imagine how pissed it would make him if you  _ did _ kill me? It’s a good construction, I wonder how much—”

“ _ I’m not going to shoot you.”  _ Steve snaps, “You— ok, maybe if you just  _ looked _ like Tony, sure, fine. But you don’t just  _ look _ like him, you have your memories and your personality and you can  _ feel pain _ , there’s— there isn’t a  _ difference _ , anymore, you’re the same as the man I love and— and I  _ can’t kill you _ .”

Not-Tony just looks at him. Smiles a bit — and it makes his split lip trickle a little bit of blood down his face, and Steve  _ aches _ with the want to be next to him, to wipe that blood away. “I know you won’t.” He says, voice… soothing, like he’s trying to talk Steve down from some imaginary precipice, “You… really should. But i know you won’t. You’re too good for that.” 

Steve wants to protest, wants to say that no, he’s  _ not _ good, this isn’t about goodness, this is him being too soft to do what he knows might be necessary. 

But… Tiberius won’t let them go. Even if Steve makes the right choice here — what a joke, there is no right choice, not here — this man is not going to keep his word. He’d know that even if Tony — both of him — hadn’t been saying the same. 

“I’m sorry.” Steve just says, takes the clip out of the gun. Nothing in the magazine, but there’s a bullet in the chamber. Figures, that he’d only get one shot. 

“It’s ok.” The LMD shrugs, “Just kick it to me, I’ve got an idea—” He twists, a bit, grimaces when he moves, “-- I think i have enough leverage, for it—”

“I am  _ not giving you the gun so you can commit suicide,” _ Steve snaps, horrified, and the LMD shakes his head. 

“I’m not going to  _ kill _ myself,” He says, and Steve… very much does not believe him, “Just my leg, ok? It’s not like I can bleed out — at least, I  _ hope _ not — and I’ve got a plan. Just—”

Steve shakes his head, “I am  _ not _ giving you this.” He says, puts the gun to the side and does  _ not _ look at it. He can’t help but imagine it — Tony taking that gun, Steve  _ giving _ it to him, willingly, and watching helplessly as Tony  _ shoots himself _ — and he just  _ barely _ keeps himself from vomiting, “Because, and I hate that I’m saying this, but can’t trust you  _ not _ to kill yourself right now, because that’s exactly the kind of stupid self-sacrifical thing that you’d  _ do _ .” 

The LMD tips his head and makes a face, but doesn’t protest, “I’m really not going to kill myself.” He says, “But I get why you’d think that. It… might end up being the only option, though. I doubt Stone’s stupid enough to get himself locked in here with us.”

“It won’t come to that.” Steve says, but his tone wobbles. It  _ might _ , it genuinely might, have to come to that. He might have to shoot Tony. He might have to watch Tony  _ die _ , and robot or not— 

Steve’s not sure if he’ll be able to live with himself for letting that happen. 

Both of the Tonies look at him, something like pity in their eyes, “It  _ won’t _ ,” Steve repeats, make his voice firm, like just by saying it he can make it come true, like words alone are enough to stop thee future from playing out how it will. 

None of them say anything after that, and then— 

Both the Tonies tense up, and Steve has just enough warning that he isn’t tugged onto his back when the chains binding his arms contract once again, “I thought you’d be smarter than this,” Stone says, clearly disappointed, looking down at Steve, then Tony, and then the LMD, and there’s something in his eyes that makes Steve struggle at his bonds as he takes the couple steps closer to LMD Tony. 

The chains don’t so much as  _ creak _ , and Steve can’t do anything but watch as the LMD looks up at Stone. He’s got a stupid little half-smirk on his face, but Steve can see the hard determination in his eyes, “Tony, don’t—”

“You’re  _ really _ fucking bad at this.” LMD Tony says, voice full of a calculated sort of amusement that Steve’s pretty sure is gonna get him hit, “Good concept, but you  _ clearly _ don’t know me well enough to make this work, which is… kinda pathetic, with how you were going off about loving me. How’re you supposed to win  _ him—”  _ The LMD tips his head at the real Tony’s who’s watching the exchange with a kind of horrified fasination, ”-- back if you can’t even get any decent psycological torture going?”

Stone hasn’t said anything, but his face is getting redder and redder, and  _ fuck _ , Steve wishes he knew what was going on inside Tony’s head right now. 

“What’s even the  _ point _ , if—”

Stone hits him again, face twisted with rage. And… something else, something that looks an awful lot like glee, hidden under the surface.  _ He’s enjoying this _ , Steve realizes, feels sick, again.  _ He’s fucking enjoying this _ . 

The real Tony’s watching the scene, mouth a tight line, cold fury in his eyes.  _ At least Stone hasn’t touched him, _ Steve thinks, and immediately feels guilty for the fact. Just because the LMD isn’t solid flesh and blood, doesn’t mean he isn’t feeling the hits. Based on the look on his face, the sounds he made when he was beaten that first time, the sounds he’s making  _ now _ , he feels it. 

And he  _ still _ isn’t shutting up. If anything, with the way his blood face twists every time he goads Stone into hitting again, he takes it as some sort of victory, “Figured, you’d get off on this,” The LMD spits, after a particularly brutal swing to his leg nearly makes him bite down on a scream, makes Steve twist his arms in his cuffs until he feels the slick warmth of blood with how desperate to get  _ out _ , to save Tony, “I’d always thought so. Wondered why you never tried anything back then, but—” 

“Shut  _ up!”  _ Stone snarls, kicks him, keeps  _ kicking _ him, and Steve hears— 

Not-Tony  _ howls _ , and underneath that noise, there’s the sound of… not bone, that’s not the sound of bone breaking. That’s the sound of a metal joint giving out, and it— 

It had come from the LMD’s knee, where Stone had stomped on it, and now his leg—

Steve has to fight not to throw up, and it looks like both Tonies are doing the same, the real Tony’s head turned away, the LMD hunched over himself, taking huge, wet-sounding breaths, pained whimpers building in his chest. 

His leg’s lying at an angle that Steve knows it shouldn’t be able to make, too flat against the floor. 

Steve sees red, “What the hell is  _ wrong  _ with you?” Steve shouts, continuing to strain against his chains, blood trickling down his arms, making the cuffs slippery and the bone of his wrist is still in the way but if he can just pull a  _ little _ more, he could get  _ out—  _ “What kind of fucking  _ monster—  _ “ He sucks in a breath, quick and  _ angry _ , fixes Stone with his best glare, “You are going to pay for that.” He says, “You’re going to fuck up, and I’m going to get out, and  _ you are going to pay.” _

Stone just  _ laughs _ , “No, I won’t.” He says, Rogers? What, exactly, is getting you so wound up? I’m not hurting anyone.” Steve opens his mouth to answer, and Stone takes a step away from the LMD, leans down into Steve’s space, points behind him at the LMD, “ _ That _ is not a person.  _ That _ is a machine, and if you had killed it in the first place this wouldn’t be happening. You are not getting out of here because you  _ wasted your shot _ . Just like I’d known you would.” 

“You don’t know anything about him.” And that’s Tony, the real Tony, speaking up for the first time so far. “Just because he’s doing the only thing that any reasonable and decent person would do, doesn’t mean you’re some master of manipulation.” His eyes are blazing, and he’s leaning forwards as much as he can considering that he, like Steve and the LMD, are chained to the floor. “You’re not going to win this, Ty.”

Stone’s face twists, and he abandons the LMD to look at Tony instead, “Of  _ course _ I know him.” He says, voice soft and almost  _ sweet _ , patronizing and horrible and Steve can  _ see _ Tony’s expression shift. “He’s a superhero. They’re all the same, too fucking cowardly to make the right choices. I’d still let both of you leave, you know.” He says, makes a gesture for one of the garuds to step out from their place beside the door, “As long as your  _ boyfriend _ takes the fucking shot. I know he won’t, even if the alternative is  _ this—”  _

The guard kicks Tony in the side, and he grunts in pain, flinching away from the blow. 

“He’s not going to ever do it.” Stone continues, “Even if he has to watch both of you suffer, because  _ that’s _ the kind of man he is. Not good, not  _ decent _ , just fucking  _ weak. _ ”

_ He’s right _ , Steve thinks, heart sinking,  _ he’s right, and I know it, because i’m going to keep letting this man hurt Tony until there’s nothing left because I don't have the guts to finish this, because i’m too soft to shoot a robot that happens to have Tony’s face. He’s right _ , Steve thinks, feels something hot in his throat, not anger, this time,  _ I’m weak.  _

The LMD coughs, wet-sounding, and there’s a trickle of something that looks an awful lot like blood coming from the corner of his mouth, “Because you’re not?” He croaks, “You haven’t touched the real me. Not once, this whole time. You say Steve’s weak for not  _ killing _ me?” Not-Tony says, is staring right into Stone’s face, eyes hard and defiant even if one of them is swelling up, “What the hell does it say about you, that you’re only willing to hurt a glorified blow-up doll?” 

Stone shakes his head, the motion too quick, almost maniac, “All I’m doing is proving that the man you think you love is willing to let you hurt,” He says, “I’m proving that I’m  _ better _ , that I’m right for you, can you not  _ see—”  _

Not-Tony barks out a laugh, “You’re crazy.” He says, “You’ve always been crazy, and now you’ve sunk low enough to hire faceless goons to beat the shit out of me and my boyfriend. Here’s something that I can  _ actually _ prove to you, Ty.” Not-Tony says, leaning forward as much as he can, “I don’t love you. I’m not  _ going _ to love you, because you’re a psychopath who thinks that abuse is the same thing as love, and you can take that fact and shove it—” 

Stone hits him again, not-Tony’s breath forced out of him with a howl. This time, Stone doesn’t stop, and Steve’s shouting — he doesn’t know what he’s saying, but he can feel his throat and lungs burning as he screams — and Stone’s face is twisted in fury as he yells at the LMD, “I  _ made you _ ,” He’s saying, “I can  _ make _ you love me, both of you, you’ll see—” 

Something gives in Steve’s wrist, and one arm’s out and it  _ hurts _ but if he’s got one arm he can get the other, he can  _ stop this _ , but before he can start trying to pry the lock off Stone’s gesturing to the guards and Steve feels darts impact his skin. He pulls them out with the hand he’d managed to rip free — wrist’s broken, most likely, but he can’t think about that right now, he  _ can’t — _ but it’s too late. 

His vision goes dark and the last thing he hears is Tony shouting.

\---

“Steve,” Steve hears Tony say, and his voice is  _ loud _ , making Steve’s head pound, but the tone is urgent so Steve opens one eye, then the other, and—

Right. They’re in a cell. 

“I’m ok,” Steve says, because Tony — the real Tony, he can only assume — is looking at him with concern in his eyes, straining against his own cuffs — now binding his wrists behind him — like he can break free like Steve had, “I’m— oh god—”

Finally, he sees the LMD, and Steve doesn’t throw up, but it’s a near thing. Not-Tony isn’t conscious — at least, Steve  _ hopes _ he’s not, because he’s slumped over onto his side as much as he’s able to with his hands bound behind his back, covered in blood and bruises.

“Is he—”

“Not dead.” Tony says, “Ty said something and he just—” Tony shrugs, clearly trying not to look at the LMD, “shut down.”

“And clearly Stone’s not expecting me to choose anymore.” Steve says, pulls half-heartedly at his cuffs. His arms are bound behind him, his wrist aching as he pulls — like Tony’s are, now — but something feels different, and twisting, he sees what it is, “Oh.” He says, purses his lips, “There’s an IV built into the cuffs. Dunno what it’s full of, but.” He trails off, rolling his shoulders and trying to ignore the pain in his head. 

“Damnnit.” Tony says, glances back at the LMD, and Steve’s pretty sure he’s only doing it so he doesn’t have to look at Steve, “I… guess I have to explain some things.” 

“Yeah.” Steve says, tries to keep his voice even — clearly, Tony and Stone have some sort of history, clearly  _ bad _ history, and Steve… Steve hasn’t even heard his  _ name _ before — because Tony shouldn’t have to deal with Steve’s… jealousy? He’s not sure that fits, really, he’s not jealous, not really, he just— 

God, he wishes Tony didn’t keep so much of his past a secret, especially from Steve. 

“I’d… like to know.” Steve starts, careful, “But if you don’t want to tell me— that’s fine. Just because I  _ want _ to know—”” Steve shrugs, and Tony ducks his head. He’s… ashamed, Steve thinks, of… either of what happened, or of not telling Steve, like Steve could  _ ever _ hate him for wanting to keep his personal life, well,  _ personal _ . “Hey, none of that. I’m not mad, I’m not going to hate you, the only reason I’m gonna be upset is because of what this man has done, not because you didn’t tell me.” Tony still doesn’t look up, and Steve sighs. “Honey, can you look at me? Please?”

Tony’s visibly reluctant to do so, but he does look, face hard as he looks at Steve, like he’s bracing for Steve to yell at him, or… or something. 

Steve wonders if that’s something Stone did to him. He’s going to find out soon enough, Steve figures. 

Steve tries to soften his face, smiles, just a little bit. Tony’s whole body relaxes when he  _ does _ see Steve’s face, and Steve does his best to keep his expression even, non-threatening, “We… dated. Back when I was in MIT.” Tony starts, “It’s still one of the longest relationships I’ve ever had, and— I thought I loved him. I thought he loved me, and I didn’t know any better, and we didn’t even break up because he was a manipulative sack of shit, it was because his father wanted him to move back to deal with his own company, and it took me  _ years _ to even realize that what he’d done was not the kind of thing anyone should do to someone they claimed to love, and then—” Tony shrugs, “I’d stopped thinking of him. Mostly. I guess he didn’t stop thinking about me.” 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Is the only thing Steve says, wishing that he could actually touch Tony, that he wasn’t chained to the floor, wishing that he could hold his boyfriend close and remind him that that time in his life is over now. He wishes that he could get up and walk out that door and punch Stone in his smug, horrible, face. 

Just then, the LMD stirs, the quiet noise of pain he makes drawing Steve’s eyes like a magnet, “This isn’t our fault.” He says, voice soft and broken-sounding, and when he breaths it’s more a wheeze than anything else, “Ty’s a sociopath. We both know that.” He attempts to push himself up, and manages, after a moment. His left arm looks badly, badly broken, badly enough that Steve thinks he can see his skin split and something that looks like bone poking through. Bone, and wire, and a fluid that’s too dark to be blood, something else that looks  _ like _ blood but most likely isn’t. 

“Are you—” Steve asks, swallows the rest of the sentence. He can’t very well ask if not-Tony’s alright, because he’s clearly, visibly not alright. 

Not-Tony shrugs, the motion only barely visible because of how he’s restrained, how badly he’s hurt. “Can’t feel my hand, or my leg, so. Could be worse.”

“That’s not as comforting as you think it is.” Steve tells him, but at least he doesn’t seem to be in too much pain. Sure, the reason for that is that he’s lost the ability to feel parts of his body, but… 

He can be fixed. Steve has to believe that he can be fixed, that they’ll get out of here. He has to believe that they’ll win. 

With that in mind — winning, getting out, getting to safety, Steve sits a little straighter, “How long was I out?” He asks, first off. Any information they have will be good as a starting point, and, well. He knows enough about their kidnapper, enough about his motives. 

Tony shakes his head. “They got me too. Don’t know how long I was out, but— well. You know that it was less than both of you.” 

“Alright.” Steve says, “So, we don’t know what we were dosed with, if—”

“I wasn’t dosed with anything,” Not-Tony says, “It was an override code, for me. Something… bastard’s in my head. I’ve been trying to feel around for any exact time, but—” He makes a face, “I can’t  _ feel _ that there’s code. It just feels like… me. Whoever Ty’s in bed with this time did a damn good job on me.”

“So whatever we do from here on out, we have to assume that Ty can control you, at least in part.” Tony says, bitterly, “Because of course he’d put in overrides. We…” He takes a breath, “We know what he wants. That’s it. And…”

“You are  _ not _ giving yourself up!” Steve snaps, because he knows Tony well enough to know  _ exactly _ where that sentence was going, “No. That’s not an option. We find another way.” 

“There might not  _ be _ another way, Steve,” Tony snaps back at Steve, “If anyone of us is able to escape, we have to take that chance because then at the very least we can come back for one another. If I can offer myself up, If I… If I can get you out, or both of you, I’m going to do it.”

“And leave you alone with  _ him? _ ” Steve asks, incredulously, “I’m not going to  _ do _ that, Tony! I can’t just leave, knowing that you—”

Tony rolls his eyes in clear exasperation, “I survived Tiberius when I was in my teens, Steve,” He says, “He won’t kill me. Nothing’s going to happen between now and when you can get me back—”

“Fucking sue me,” Steve snarls, feeling his gut roll at the implication, feeling fear rise in his stomach as Tony keeps talking, “But maybe I don’t want  _ not being dead _ to be your hard line. Maybe I  _ know _ that people can get pretty damn close to death without crossing that line, and  _ maybe _ I don’t want you anywhere goddamn  _ near _ that line!”

“And maybe,” Tony tells Steve, voice hard, “I don’t  _ care _ what you think because  _ this is the best plan we have _ . I don’t exactly want to stay here, but fuck, I want all  _ three _ of us here even less. You  _ have _ to understand that, Steve.” 

“I—” Steve starts, leans forwards and lowers his tone. “I don’t want you with him,  _ alone _ . I don’t like the thought of what he could do to you, and if you say he won’t kill you— Tony, you  _ said _ it’s been years since you’ve seen him, he could’ve changed. He might—”

“Oh, what do we have here?”

Steve shits his mouth with an audible click, clenching his jaw so hard he can feel his teeth start to protest, as Stone walks back into the room. 

Stone surveys the group of them with his hands shoved in his pockets, looking utterly relaxed. He’s smiling, and Steve wants him to  _ stop _ , “Looks like  _ someone’s _ jealous,” He continues, staring straight at Steve, clucks his tongue like he’s scolding a naughty child. “Not wanting your current partner to be around their ex’s is a big red flag, you know.” He tells Steve, looks over at Tony with something like disappointment on his face, “Are you  _ sure _ you want to keep him, after something like that?”

“He isn’t  _ jealous. _ ” Tony snaps, “He doesn’t want me to be around you because you’re a psychopath and he’s afraid you’re going to kill me.” Tony says, but his voice is flatter than it should be, “Which is  _ pretty fucking reasonable, if you ask me _ .” 

Stone scowls, “We’ll see.” He says, “You’ll choose me eventually, Tony. You’ll see that I’m right.” 

He steps backwards out the door, and as he does so, gestures, and Steve feels his heart drop as the wall between him and the two Tonies starts sliding back into place, “No.” Steve says, pulling at the cuffs again even knowing that it’s fruitless, and the divider’s slid fully shut before he can say anything else. 

\---

He’s left like that, alone, for four more hours. He starts to ache, the position he’s being forced into straining his muscles, and he still strains them more when the divider starts sliding open again. 

“Tony,” He tries to shout, but his voice is dry from lack of water, and the sound comes out on a croak. 

He sees Tony first, sagging forwards in his chains and breathing heavily. His torso looks more bruised than the last time Steve had seen him, but that’s it. That’s all. 

And then the divider slides back a little more, and—

“ _ Tony,”  _ Steve says, again, because not-Tony’s nothing more than a bloody mess, the part of his chest that Steve can see visibly caved inwards, only one half rising with his labored breaths and all Steve can think is  _ no, no, no _ . 

“Steve,” Tony’s saying, “Steve, you’re hurting yourself,  _ stop it—”  _

Distantly, Steve can feel pain in his wrists, — he’s tugging at the chains again, and the motion’s aggravating his already broken wrist, the one that still hasn’t healed — but it’s Tony’s voice that stops him, “He’s—” Steve says, voice thick, “Oh, God—”

“He’s going to be ok.” Tony says, voice forcibly calm but rough, like he’d been shouting, “He’s not going to die, Steve, he’s a robot, he can’t suffocate. He doesn’t need to breath. Steve—”

“With you.” Steve answers, settling back in his chains, “We have to get out. We have to—”

“I’ve been saying that, Honey.” Tony responds, a smile tugging up the corner of his lips, “This is why I want you and him to go, because even though his Ty hasn’t hurt me more than, well, more than a little roughing up. Him—” Tony glances to the side, “Even with what he is, I don’t know that Ty won’t destroy him.” 

“He won’t.” The LMD croaks, starts coughing and doesn’t stop, spitting up blood and not-blood and whatever else must be in his body. He looks up, and when he bares his teeth in what is not even remotely close to a smile Steve can see that one of his eyes is swollen shut with bruising. “I’m too expensive.” 

He breaks into coughing again, and both Steve and Tony look at him worriedly. 

And then Tony jerks his head away, as the LMD starts rocking in his chains, like he’s doing something behind his back. Steve can’t see from this angle, but from the look on Tony’s face, he can. “What are you  _ doing _ ,” Tony hisses, still looking away from his double, and Steve— Steve’s worried, and confused, and if he strains hard enough he can hear soft squelching noises, mixed with the scrape of metal on metal. 

Not-Tony jerks his head towards Tony, again, and— It’s not a nod, it looks involuntary, almost. Like he’s having a seizure, almost, but he’s not— he’s not  _ human _ , so why— 

Steve gets it when Not-Tony opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, then drops his head, raises it slowly and repeats the motion, again, and again, and again. Not close to the same motion — it’s  _ exactly _ the same, every time — and Steve  _ gets _ it. 

“F-Fuck—” The LMD manages to say, before his jaw shuts so quickly that it has to hurt and he spasms in the chains again, “G-G-G-G—”

He keeps making that noise, like a phone ringing off the hook, telling whoever’s on the other end that there’s no one home, “He’s—” Steve says, can’t quite tear his eyes away from the horrible sight in front of him, of Tony, broken and beaten and shaking in the chains like he’s going to come right apart. 

“Glitching.” Tony finishes, still not looking at the LMD, staring at a point on the floor somewhere close to Steve’s knee instead, jaw tight, “Maybe he’s not as expensive as he thought he was.” 

“Don’t say that,” Steve snaps, turning to glare at Tony, “He’s not—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony says, shifts on the floor like he wants to straighten up but can’t quite do so, “I’m just  _ saying _ . Clearly, Ty broke something.” 

Steve… can’t really argue that. Steve doesn’t know much about computers — he’s learning, thanks in part to Tony, but it’s less like math and more like a language he doesn’t know yet — but he knows that this cannot be normal behavior. Not-Tony looks like he’s  _ possessed _ , nearly, and as Steve thinks that, he slumps over onto his side, still jerking in the restraints. He’s trying to say something, Steve thinks, and feels a swell of horror at the thought that whatever may be happening to his body might not have affected his mind, that he might be trapped in his own head trying desperately to communicate. 

And the worst part, the worst part of this whole damn experience, is that Steve can’t  _ do _ anything. He can’t stop this from happening, he can’t rescue Tony —  _ either _ of them — and he can’t even hold his boyfriend as he seizes into oblivion. He can’t do anything, and he feels— helpless, completely helpless, for the first time in a long, long time. He wishes he could  _ do  _ something, anything, other than kneeling on the cold floor feeling pathetic. 

The LMD’s making this awful, wet sound in his chest, like he’s drowning — god, he could be, drowning in— blood, maybe, whatever other fluids are in his body, couldn’t he, he could be drowning and dying and Steve can’t even touch him — but Tony had said that the LMD didn’t have to breathe, so— 

Steve’s never going to forget this. 

He’s going to see this,  _ exactly _ this, behind his eyelids when he tries to sleep, and every time it’s going to be a reminder that he was not good enough. 

Steve closes his eyes, tries to look away, and hates his eidetic memory, because he can still see the LMD, curled on his side with his arms pulled tight behind him, sparking wires poking out of the side of his chest that looks half-crushed. He can still see the shiny metal where Tony’s cheekbone would be, the gouge in his arm where the bone broke skin. 

He can still hear it, too. The LMD’s half-choked noises, stuttering like a broken record player, the horrible wheezing of his lungs, the wet noises as he claws at his own skin. 

Steve only doesn’t throw up because he hasn’t eaten since he was taken and there’s nothing in his stomach  _ to _ throw up. Still, it’s a near thing. 

“Steve,” He hears, snaps his eyes back to the LMD, still jolting on the floor but meeting Steve’s eyes with surprising steadiness as the door behind them opens up and two black-suited men stride in before Stone, “Love you.”

“Tony—” Steve says, but the word is drowned out by commotion as the LMD starts shouting, a piercing and almost mechanical noise, jerking like he’s being electrocuted. There's a spray of blood —  _ god, no, please no — _ but the LMD keeps on struggling, blood pouring from his mouth. He bit his tongue, Steve realizes, and Steve feels himself start to scream. 

“Jesus,” Stone says, looks down at the LMD with disgust, “Come on, get him up, we’ll take him to tech and get him fixed up. Broken piece of  _ shit _ ,” Stone emphasizes his words by kicking the LMD in the hip as he’s tugged to standing by the muscle Stone had brought. He’s dragged out of the room, still twitching and shouting, and Stone surveys the mess of the room with an almost bored expression on his face, “Don’t worry,” He says, and beams, smug and self-satisfied and Steve hates him more than he’s hated anyone else, “We’ll have him fixed up in no time.” 

And then Stone spins on his heel — his shoes are covered in blood, and Steve  _ hopes _ it stains — and walks out the door. 

There’s a click from where Tony’s still kneeling, and Steve turns his head from glaring at the door to see Tony…

Rubbing his wrists, where they’re free of the cuffs, holding a wire that at one point must’ve been copper, but is now a dirty, rusted red. 

Tony shuffles over to Steve, still on his knees, grabs Steve’s wrists and starts working at the lock. “What?” Steve says, trying to twist to look at Tony and not succeeding, unless he wants Tony to stop picking him out, “Tony, where the hell—”

“The LMD.” Tony says, voice short, “He pried this out of his arm when he pretended to glitch, he’s giving us a chance, we have to go now before someone notices—”

“We can’t  _ leave him—” _

“We  _ have to _ ,” Tony snaps, “Ok? I don’t like it either, but he’s given us an opportunity that we don’t know we’ll get again, and we  _ can’t stay here _ , Steve.” 

The cuffs pop open, and Steve rips the IV out without being told. “Stone’ll—”

“Stone might reset him, and might keep hurting him, but as long as he can start over—” Tony swallows, “We can get him back, but we  _ have to go _ . You’re drugged, and I don’t have anything, we can’t get him too, not right now. Ok, Steve?”

Steve swallows, turns and grabs Tony’s hand in both of his, “Ok.” He says, “I hate this. I hate that he’s— that he’s going to be alone, but— I can’t fight like this.” He admits, “And neither can you. But— you’re the one who knows Stone. You’re the one with the info. Are you  _ sure _ we can’t get him, too?” 

“Yes,” Tony says, voice uneven but honest, and Steve blinks back the stinging feeling in his eyes. Tony cups Steve’s cheek, and then nods, “We get out, we get healed up, we come back with the team and we kick Ty’s ass halfway to the moon. We’ll get him back,” Tony says, “I promise. We’ll get him back.”

Steve nods, swallows, and makes his own promise, one death that he won’t feel guilty for, “Good plan.” He says, and the two of them stand, largely supporting one another. Steve nearly falls over with a wave of dizziness that hits him when he stands, and Tony’s visibly favoring his left side, but they stand. Together, they manage it, “You wanna get the door, or should I?”

Tony flashes the wire at him, and grins. “I’ll get it.” 

\---

They’ve only just gotten him out the door when Ty snaps, “Unit 19, full manual control,” and Tony — the LMD, he knows he’s the fake but he can't quite stop himself from referring to himself by the name that isn’t his in his head — feels his whole body lock up, “Follow,” Ty says, and when he starts down the hallway Tony feels his legs move to keep pace just a couple feet behind Ty. He tries to stop — he can feel his legs, his broken knee protesting at every step but moving just as precisely as his intact one — but there’s no effect.  _ You bastard, _ he thinks, but can’t make his mouth move to say the words as icy fear slowly slides down his spine. 

_ Why wouldn’t he have used this before _ , He thinks,  _ if he didn’t want Steve to know I was the fake why didn’t he just order me to shut up, why wouldn’t he gag us, why— _

Something’s wrong here. He’s felt it since Ty gave his ultimatum, since he’d taken his first full-feeling breath in over a decade, Since Ty had taken him away and fixed… exactly nothing. There’s some variable he’s missing, some piece in this game that he’s not aware of, and it makes the hair on the back of Tony’s neck stands up. 

The place is larger than Tony had been expecting — and emptier, too, with just the black-suited security goons trailing behind him and Ty — and he can feel his busted-up arm swinging beside him with every step, the unbroken half of his rib-cage creaking with every breath. The broken side mostly just hurts constantly.

_ You don’t need to breathe you’re a robot, _ Tony tells himself, but it doesn’t stop him feeling like he’s suffocating.  _ You’re not going to die because you dropped a lung or whatever the fuck is in there because you don’t need oxygen, calm down _ .  _ This’ll be worth it if Steve gets out. It’ll be worth it it has to be worth it.  _

Tony’s glad that whatever manual control Ty’d put him under keeps him staring unblinkingly forewards, because he’s pretty sure he would actually throw up right now if he had to see the state of his arm, or his chest, or his leg. Sure, he’d  _ felt _ it — he’d dug around in there for the wire he slipped to the original, after all, and god, he’s glad that Steve hadn’t been able to tell he’d been lying when he said he’d lost feeling — and it had hurt like a sonofabitch, but he doesn’t want to  _ see _ it. Feeling it, so much like working in the guts of a machine aside from the squishiness of it all, slippery fake flesh tangled around wires and metal bones and— 

There should be a rule, really. No one should  _ ever _ have to see the inside of their own bodies, robot or not. No one should have to  _ feel _ the insides of their own body either, really, but—

Let’s just say that for Tony, at least,  _ both _ those ships had sailed. 

Ty kept walking, so Tony kept walking, wanting to make noises of pain but not being able to, not even in his chest, in his throat. Sure, he didn’t exactly  _ want _ to be screaming in pain, and if he wasn’t being stopped by his own body, by his own damn programming, there's a good chance he’d be gritting his teeth just the same, but— 

It’s having the choice taken away that’s the worst part. 

Ty stops in front of a door, and Tony stops right after him. He can’t even shift his weight away from his bad leg,  _ fuck _ , but that  _ hurts— _

“On the table.” Ty orders, Tony’s body walks to one of the tables in the center of the room — it doesn’t look much like a table, if Tony’s being honest, clearly designed to restrain a person while leaving as much as their body exposed as possible, specifically, a line down the middle of the back, a circle in the headrest to give access to his neck and the back of his head — and lays down on top of the thing. 

_ Fuck _ , Tony thinks, fear churning in his gut, wanting to thrash around, wanting to scream and yell and bite and  _ fight _ as the two black-suited goons step forewards and start restraining him, but he can’t, he can’t do  _ anything _ , can’t so much as twitch or even move his eyes as he’s strapped onto the table and that, somehow, makes the feeling of straps arround his wrists, his legs, and his middle worse. He’s already essentially  _ paralyzed _ , for fucks sake, this is  _ unnecessary _ — 

“Unit 19, manal control rescinded.” Ty snaps, and Tony’s pretty sure that he snaps something in his damaged forearm with how fast every muscle in his body goes rigid, but he doesn’t scream. 

_ Or, _ Tony thinks, tugging on the straps despite knowing that it’s not gonna do  _ shit _ , gaze darting around the room, frantic and desperate for anything he can  _ use _ ,  _ or, he’s gonna give back control because he wants to see my reactions for whatever happens next _ . 

“Neat trick.” Tony bites out, has to put in effort to continue twitching like he’s actually glitching, the words coming out thick and clumsy around his bleeding tongue, and he has to strain to lock eyes with Ty with the way his head’s strapped down, “Do I get to meet whoever designed it for you?”

The jibe clearly doesn’t piss Ty off as much as Tony had thought it would.  _ Stay calm,  _ he tells himself _ , don’t give away the game. _

God, he hopes that the original got the hint. He hopes that him and Steve are escaping right now, that Steve isn’t being his usual self-sacrificial self, that he’s listening to reason and getting out while they still can. 

“You will.” Is all Ty says, smiling that fake, too-bright smile again. As always, it makes Tony want to run somewhere far,  _ far _ away, “In time. Doctor Pryce is—”

At that moment, alarms start blaring, red lights flashing over the lab, and Tony can’t help the surge of vicious pride he feels. Ty looks around, snaps something at the goons that Tony can’t make out over the din, and the two of them run out of the room. 

Ty takes his phone out just as it starts ringing, and even though Tony can’t do anything but half-listen to the conversation, eyes fixed to the ceiling, he still has to fight back a grin. 

_ They did it _ , he thinks _ , They’re out, they got out, they’re going to be ok.  _

Ty snaps something over the phone, something that’s probably important, even if Tony misses most of the sentence. He’s gotta hand it to whoever built him, they did a  _ damn _ good job at replicating concussion symptoms. He can’t distinguish the speech through the blaring of the alarms. 

The alarms shut off, the sound dying down and the lights going back to normal, and Tony  _ wishes _ he could see what the hell is going on. He wishes he could see what the hell Ty’s doing, but strapped to the table as he is— 

He can only strain his ears for the sound of footsteps and try to figure out what’s happening based on sound alone. 

There’s the screech of a walkie talkie, and then, “Sir. They got away.” 

Tony can’t help but slump with relief when he hears those words, letting out a huff that’s only barely not a laugh, “Told you you wouldn’t win.” He says, the taste of blood bitter in his mouth, “I fucking  _ told _ you. They’re out, and they’re going to come back, and they’re going to burn you to the  _ ground—”  _

Tony cut himself off, because Ty— Ty was  _ laughing _ , quietly at first, and then longer and louder, and Tony thought,  _ oh god, he’s finally lost it.  _

“You  _ really _ think I couldn’t tell you were faking it?” Ty says, still laughing, and his face appears above Tony’s, an over-exaggerated pout on his face even as he still laughs, “Oh, poor little broken wind-up toy,” He says, mockingly, “What, you think I didn’t see you pry that wire out of your arm? Please. I haven’t lost. You always think you’re so good at playing this game, at pretending to be something you’re not, but you forget, Tony.” Ty leans forewards, “I’ve been playing it for longer and I’m better at it than you are. God, it’s embarrassing, how quickly all of you fell for the crazy ex routine.” 

Fear settles icy in Tony’s gut.  _ This is what you were missing, _ his brain tells him,  _ this is the variable,  _ “You wanted them to escape.” Tony says, feeling like his ribcage is squeezing tighter, and tighter, making the words come out choked, “You wanted them to get out, but, why—” 

“Because they’re coming back for you, that’s why.” Ty says, grinning even wider, “Because when they do I’ll have made some… modifications.”

“Whatever you do, they’ll fix.” Tony snaps, like he’s not trying to twist out of his restraints despite how much it hurts, like he’s not pushing his head back against the table in an effort to get as far away from Ty as possible, like he’s not already half-terrified, “They’ll find me, and they’ll fix me, because they know I’m the fake and they’d  _ know _ that you’d pull something like this, and you  _ won’t win _ .”

Ty snorts, “I’ll win.” He says, “Of course they know you’re the fake.” He says, “What was it that Pryce left in… something about lung capacity? You really think that I couldn't have faked  _ that? _ Tony, you’ve done everything I knew you’d do since the very beginning. You’re playing your hand, the hand I  _ gave _ you, exactly as I knew you would.”

Ty just leans further over him, his arm disappearing out of Tony’s view, making his breath come faster, more painful, and then—

The table he’s strapped to is wrenched upright, and Tony freezes. “And you don’t even know the cards I still hold.” Ty whispers, a parody of seduction, right into Tony’s ear. His breath is hot across Tony’s cheek and he wishes he could get  _ away _ . 

“You made more.” Tony breathes, staring at himself sitting in a nicer version of the cell he’d been taken from where there’d just been a wall, gagged and with his hands bound behind him. The Tony in the cell is looking at the scene in front of him with wide eyes, and something in Tony screams,  _ this isn’t right _ . 

“I did.” Ty aggrees, the glee audible in his tone, his hands landing on Tony’s shoulders, and the Tony in the cell isn’t bruised, isn’t beaten, the only mark on him is the scratch on Tony’s cheek he’d gotten from the fight that had landed him and Steve here. Something is wrong, Tony’s missing something, and he has the horrible feeling that he’s about to be handed the last piece, “And he’s not one of them.” 

A screen turns on, only the reflection of the glass of the cell visible to Tony, but the other him in the cell can see it, that’s obvious, as his eyes go even wider and he makes a strangled noise through the gag, and the reflection—

That’s security camera footage, of Steve and the other Tony — the other  _ LMD _ , fuck — limping away together. “You get it now,” Ty says softly, stands and smiles at another door as… as another version of  _ him _ walks out, leans against the wall and waves.“Don’t you. There was never a  _ choice _ , not really. I knew Rogers was never going to pull the trigger, I knew that you’d find a way to give yourself up, just like I know that I’ll be long gone by the time they come after me. You’ve  _ lost _ . You know that. I just want to hear you say it. I want to see you believe it, for  _ once  _ in your goddamn life.”

Tony presses his lips together, jaw tight, “They’ll figure it out.” He says, and it sounds hollow,  _ scared _ , even to his own ears, “My team will—”

“The robot your boyfriend’s just brought home is a Trojan horse,” Ty cuts him off, “It’ll fool anyone, anything, any piece of tech,  _ including him _ , by the way. No one will know unless they  _ cut him open _ . You tell me, Tony, what  _ exactly _ are the chances of that?” 

Tony doesn’t answer. He  _ can’t _ , “And I’m guessing you’re only telling me this because you’re going to kill me.” He says, voice flat.  _ God _ , but his chest hurts. He doesn’t think it’s just the broken ribs anymore.

“Of  _ course _ not,” Ty says, sounding appalled, “That would be a waste of resources. I’m only telling you because as soon as Dr. Pryce gets here she’s going to remove all of your memories and make some changes to your personality. A poor, traumatized, fake. They’re not going to be able to resist welcoming you with open arms.”

_ No _ , Tony thinks, and he’s not going to be able to do anything, this Pryce is going to change him to Ty’s liking and he’s going to be sent home like nothing’s wrong and he’s going to be his very own worst enemy, and possibly worst of all, he’s still  _ here _ , in the cell across the room, and Tony — the  _ real _ Tony — is going to have to watch and he’s not going to be able to do anything to stop it, either. 

_ Not my mind _ , he wants to say, but doesn’t, because there’s no stopping what’s going to happen here and he  _ won’t _ beg,  _ don’t take my mind away from me _ .

Ty takes a step and does a little half-spin, arms raised like a magician showing off a trick, beaming like he’s won a prize, and the LMD Ty starts clapping, slow, and loud. “So,” He says, to the Tony in the cell, “Are you not going to ask me why?”

Real-Tony just glares at him, jaw tight around the gag. 

“Right,” Ty chuckles, “You can’t. I’ll tell you anyways, don’t worry.” He steps up towards the cell, slams a fist against the glass. Real-Tony jerks where he’s sitting, like he wants to flinch backwards, “I’m doing this because I want to destroy you.” He says, and there’s no emotion left in his voice. No glee, no anger, nothing. Tony guesses that Ty hadn’t been lying when he said he was better at this game than Tony, “I am going to burn your life, your company, your relationship,  _ everything _ , to the ground, and I am going to make you watch. I’m going to  _ break _ you, Tony.” He says, and Tony can’t look away, not from Ty’s face in the glass, not from his own face, staring back in horror. He can’t look away, and his busted arm might be torn up enough that he could force it through the cuff but there’s no strength in his arms, not enough, anyway, and the only thing his struggles are doing is causing more blood to drip, drip, down to the floor. 

“Mr. Stone,” not-Tony hears, somewhere behind him and he jolts in the restraints, the thought of someone behind him, while he’s restrained, while he’s already hurting, makes his heart pound painfully in his chest. A woman walks around to his front, holding a tablet and looking utterly unaffected by the gorey state his body’s in, “I did not realize you were planning on damaging unit 19 so extensively.” 

Ty shrugs, abandons the cell to stand beside the woman — Pryce, Tony thinks — as she surveys him. “I don’t need him entirely repaired.” He says, “Let his boy-toy and unit 20 handle that. The programming, though—”

“Is the priority, yes.” She says, almost absently, leaves Tony’s frame of view and even though he freezes up, he’s not braced for the table to be flipped so he’s being suspended upside-down facing the floor, he’s not prepared for the feeling of cold metal slicing at the back of his neck, one long, straight cut. 

Tony can’t help himself — he screams, and then nearly bites his tongue out when he feels something sliding— in, and in, into his  _ spine _ ,  _ what the fuck is she doing, what is that, oh god it hurts, it hurts _ —

Pryce, behind him, makes a noise of frustration, and snaps, “Suspend function, respiration,” and all at once Tony can’t breathe, he can’t, he can’t move his lungs at all, he can’t  _ breathe _ and he’s going to die, he’s going to suffocate, because his lungs aren’t  _ working _ and the thing Pryce is shoving into his neck just keeps moving upwards and Tony thinks that he might be sobbing.

“-- vocals aren’t tied up in breathing?” He hears Ty say, misses most of the sentence, misses most of everything because his vision’s gone blurry, but not dark, he’s not passing out and he  _ wants _ to pass out, he wants the horrible, invasive pain to stop, he wants it all to  _ stop _ . 

He wants to die, he wants to breathe, he wants  _ anything _ that’s not being stuck in this horrible in-between state, suffocating but  _ not,  _ alive but  _ not, _ and the roar of his blood in his ears is louder than anything else and he wonders when that’ll stop, too. He wonders if that’s something they can control, too, if Ty or Pryce could say a handful of words to stop his heart in his chest, he wonders if his programming will let him pass out then. 

Something  _ clicks _ , in the back of his skull, and just as quickly a prickling feeling, growing in intensity and spreading through his head like his brain’s getting pins-and-needles and it’s just as wrong-feeling as it is painful and it’s all-consuming to the point that he can’t feel his body anymore, and he’d been wishing for that just a moment ago but now he thinks he’d take the pain, the constant feeling of no-air, over  _ this _ . 

Tony thinks that he can hear himself crying, and he doesn’t think he could stop if he wanted to. 

“Freeze motor functions,” Pryce says, bored-sounding and faintly annoyed as Tony’s entire body locks in place, “Suspend somatosensory functions,” and as soon as the last syllable's uttered there’s—

Nothing. 

He’s blind, and deaf, and he can’t feel his own body and if he thought the pain was bad, that’s  _ nothing _ , nothing compared to the dark, “No,” He tries to say, but he can’t feel his throat move, he can’t hear his own voice, he can think the thought to speak the words but he doesn’t— he can’t know if he’s actually speaking, he’s cut-off, completely, oh, god—

His head is still buzzing like there’s a nest of bees in his skull, the prickling feeling of someone poking around in his head, like his mind is a deck of cards that someone’s shuffling out of order. Wrong, wrong,  _ wrong _ . 

_ Don’t leave me like this, _ he wants to say, wants to  _ beg _ ,  _ do whatever you want just please don’t leave me here, i can’t, please don’t leave me in the dark _ . 

_ Maybe this is what Ty meant by modifications,  _ Tony thinks,  _ maybe he’s making Pryce write a program that can mimic me and be me and isn’t me and i’m going to be stuck here in the dark until I go insane, maybe it’s already been a week and my body’s walking around like it’s me and I can’t tell because I’m stuck like this and maybe this is hell—  _

“Thank you. I want him to hear this.” Tony hears Ty says, and he shouldn’t be relieved to hear that bastard’s voice but he is, he  _ is,  _ and god, how pathetic is he that a couple of seconds in the dark can affect him  _ this much,  _ a couple of seconds locked in place with only the pain in his head and none of the pain in his body, an echo chamber for his own thoughts, “You won’t remember any of this soon.” Ty says, “So I’m going to tell you what I’m going to do with  _ you _ . The real you. I know, it doesn’t much matter, but…” Tony can tell Ty’s shrugging, and he’s fucking  _ pathetic _ , clinging onto every word like it’s salvation, feeling relief at every sound.

Even if said sounds are the sick, wet-sounding noises that make him absolutely sure that someone’s digging around inside of him. Not just his head, then.

_Arm, leg, skull,_ _or chest_ , he thinks, and tries not to listen hard enough to figure out the answer. 

At least he can’t feel it. At the  _ very _ fucking least, he can’t feel it. 

“I want you to know.” Ty continues, “I want to see the expression on your face when you finally understand that you don’t get to win this one. Do you want to know what’s going to happen after Dr Pryce resets you? Of course you do.” Ty snorts, “You think that maybe if I tell you you’ll  _ somehow _ remember and you’ll be able to tell all of your friends my plan. You’re not going to remember, and you’re not even going to realize it. After you’re all fixed up, I’m going to put you back in your cell. You’re going to remember the breakout, but nothing else. I’d say you’ll figure out what else the lovely doctor is going to change, but you’re not even going to notice that you  _ are _ different.”

_ I’m going to die here, _ Tony thinks, because as much as this body might be fixed, and as much as anyone will believe that he survived, after whatever happens next, after whatever  _ is _ happening — he can feel it, barely, things shifting in his head, teeth-rattling like the sound furniture makes when it’s shoved across a floor — he won’t be Tony Stark anymore. Whoever he is now will not survive and he can only hope that  _ someone _ will notice the difference. 

“You’ll stay here, with  _ my _ LMD, all wrapped up nice and pretty for your avengers to find you,” Ty says, “And the real me and Pryce and the real you will be long, long gone. No one will come looking. No one’s going to find us.” Tony can’t see Ty’s face, can only hear the words, but the tone is gloating and he would bet a lot that Ty is smiling right now, convinced that he’s won, convinced that Tony and Steve and all his friends are going to fall for it.

The worst part? Tony knows he’s right. 

There’s the sound of footsteps, drawing away, and then an ear-piercing screech of metal bending that Tony’s pretty sure is coming from him, “You’re  _ mine _ .” Ty says, voice distant, now. Tony guesses he’s talking to the real-him in the other cell. “I get to keep you, and all I had to pay for this was the promise that I’d let Dr Pryce poke around in your head. I win, Tony. I  _ win _ .”

Ty’s still talking, but— Tony can’t make it out. Everything’s fading, the pain in his head, the sounds in this room, and Tony can’t remember that that’s a bad thing. 

He sinks into unconsciousness like a stone and forgets. 

\---

“Tony,” He hears, a voice that Tony knows, a voice that Tony trusts, even though the name doesn’t come to him, as deep into unconsciousness as he is. “Tony, wake up, c’mon,” 

_ Let me sleep, _ Tony thinks, a touch bitterly, trying to pull away from the sensation of his own body, from the pain he can feel, just at the edge of his awareness, promising to hit him full-force if he wakes up any more. 

“Tony, please,” The voice says, pulling Tony into wakefulness despite his attempts to stay asleep. There are hands on his face, warm, and rough, and they do absolutely nothing to stop Tony from gasping when the pain does hit. He wishes he wasn’t as impressed with whatever tech went into this body, because the pain feels  _ real _ . Absolutely, entirely, real. 

“Fuck,” He snarls, pulls away from Steve’s hands, screwing his eyes up tight.  _ God _ , his head hurts. 

Steve’s shoulders sag in relief, and Tony wants to snarl at him. “You’re awake, good, that’s—”

“Doesn’t feel very good.” Tony snaps, cutting him off, pulling impatiently at the cuffs, “You couldn’t have gotten these off  _ before _ waking me up? Jesus.” 

Steve’s face falls, just a little bit, at the tone in Tony’s voice, and then his jaw sets in a line and he moves to crouch behind Tony. Tony freezes, not liking the thought of Steve behind him, feeling a phantom pain in the back of his neck, his spine, tensing up in fear. Steve’s hand lands on the cuff and Tony flinches at the feeling, “Hold still.” Steve orders, voice low and rough, and Tony thinks,  _ yeah, don’t have a lot of choice there, bud, _ before there’s the sound of failing metal and one of his wrists is free. 

A second later, so is his other wrist, and Steve’s grabbing his arm to haul Tony to his feet. 

Tony shrugs him away, once he’s standing — his leg is still wobbly, and he won’t be able to stand on his own for long, much less  _ walk _ — but he doesn’t  _ need _ Steve’s help. He’s not weak. 

“I can do this myself,  _ thanks _ ,” He snaps, bristling at the look on Steve’s face, but leaning against the wall as Steve opens the door, peeks out into the hall and then gestures Tony forwards, “Where’s the real one?” He asks, limping along behind Steve as the other man creeps down the hallway, shield held in front of himself like he’s waiting for bullets to start raining down the hallway. 

“Finding Stone.” Steve answers, voice quiet but full of a vicious satisfaction that honestly scares Tony a little bit, “The way’s clear, c’mon.” 

Steve continues on ahead, and Tony hobbles along after him, bad leg sparking in pain with every step, but he grits his teeth and keeps going. He’s had worse. Steve was right, though — there’s no sign of guards through the hallway, and then they’re out, Tony breathing in fresh air even though it makes his busted up ribcage hurt. The quinjet’s landed in the parking lot of — huh, an old, not-actually-abandoned ViaStone factory, should’ve guessed — and Steve herds Tony towards it slightly quicker than Tony’s leg can handle. 

Tony drops into one of the seats as soon he’s able, glares at Steve as he starts fussing over him. “Stop it,” He finally snaps, “You can’t do anything, basic first aid doesn’t exactly apply here.” 

Steve looks up at him, a hurt expression on his face, but doesn’t say anything, just pulls his hands away and sits down beside Tony, “I’m sorry we left you.” He says, “I’m sorry— if you want to talk, or—”

“I do  _ not _ want to talk about the fun times I had when my psychotic ex kidnapped me, Jesus.” Tony interrupts, tips his head back in the seat, “I would  _ much _ rather pretend it never happened. Ok?” 

“Ok.” Steve says, voice small, and Tony closes his eyes and tries to pretend he can’t feel the warmth of Steve’s body next to him. 

It doesn’t take long for something else to happen, and when Tony cracks his eyes open the other him is tromping up the quinjet ramp wearing the suit, “Stone’s being brought into SHIELD,” Real-him says, tugs his helmet off and tucks it under his arm, “The others are… supervising.” He glances at not-Tony as he walks towards the cockpit, stops before continuing on, and Tony scowls at the pity on his face. “So… how did you figure it out?” He asks, voice to soft for the situation.

Tony locks eyes with his original, twists his mouth into something that isn’t a smile, and takes a long, exaggerated breath. It hurts, the way broken ribs often do. “I can breath properly.” He says, pointedly doesn’t look down at his own broken chest, “Or. I  _ could _ . No reduced lung capacity here. Lucky, huh?”

The original tips his head, matching Tony’s smile, “Yeah.” He says, spins on his heel and continues up to the cockpit. “Strap in, I’m taking us home.” 

_ Home _ . Tony thinks, the bitterness in his head surprising even to him but… then again, he is a fake. He’s not Tony Stark, the man he loves doesn’t love him back because he’s  _ not _ Tony Stark, and as the quinjet starts it’s engines, Tony closes his eyes and ignores the man sitting next to him, hands twitching in his lap like he wants to reach out and touch.  _ Yeah, right. _


End file.
